


toe the line

by scionblad



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Flash Fic, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 14:08:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15686952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scionblad/pseuds/scionblad
Summary: Eren and Jean have a conversation late at night.(Set between chapters 107 and 108.)





	toe the line

**Author's Note:**

> to the me of five years before: jean and eren are still good in the manga. you've nothing to fear
> 
> to the readers: thanks for clicking on this goop nonsense meaningless conversation because i want my faves to interact and also because i've been invested in this ship for literally years

There was a small bit of down time in the night, after everyone who had perished in Liberio had been buried. Conny had left to go to bed early, the underside of his eyes darkened with burden. They’d all been through a lot in the past couple years, but the most recent blow had hit him quite hard. He and Sasha had been quite the fool’s pair, after all.

Jean, well—Jean had everyone and no one in particular to begin with, and he’d run out of blows to take since he’d joined the Survey Corps. None of it mattered, anyway, he thought mildly, as he wandered the base. Life was grim, and he greeted it grimly. He wasn’t the kind of person to pretend otherwise. There was no idealism or dream driving him forwards, like with Eren and Armin. Just the bitter reality of a funeral pyre in his hometown from years ago, of people who bore the crest of two swords alongside him, a scattering of bones, charred in the flames.

Such was a soldier’s life. He did not expect to let them give their lives for nothing. He would not let it.

The stairs wound downwards, and the torch light brightened the steps at even intervals. At the landing, he stopped. The walls here were stone, like everywhere else, but the bore the wear of some kind of desperation.

The fourth cell over was Eren’s. 

His eyes were guarded, like a hostile dog’s, the shadows darker in the low torchlight, and his body was seated,  hunched over, elbows on his knees, like he was meditating. “Jean,” he said, in an even voice. “Welcome.”

“Shut the fuck up, Eren.”

The smirk on Eren’s face is familiar—god knows that Jean’s seen it too many times in the past five years, in training, after training, after the whole Titan power thing, after the truth was found in the basement in Shiganshina. What a self-righteous idiot.

“Hange visited me earlier, too,” said Eren. “Gave me a slap on the wrist. ‘Everyone hates Paradis now,’ and ‘You’ve abused the trust of the Survey Corps.’ Damn annoying.”

Jean crossed his arms. “The commander is right, though. You fucked up everything.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Eren. “Like I told Hange, none of you can kill me or Zeke. I have the Founding Titan, the Attack Titan, and now I have the War Hammer Titan too.”

“Sasha is dead,” said Jean. 

“Thanks. I know.”

“You were—you were  _ reckless,”  _ said Jean. “What’s the goddamn deal, huh? Is it because you’re gonna die in five years?”

Eren was silent, the look in his eyes shifting. “No,” he said. “I’m not afraid of death.”

Well  _ that _ much was obvious. Said the man who got himself eaten for Armin’s sake. Said the man who charged in again and again, brutally consuming everything that got in his path, leaving a wake of destruction. That kind of person was bound to toe the line between life and death so many times.

“I’m not afraid of death,” he muttered again. “Not afraid.”

The fuck was wrong with him? Maybe he was still weak, after all, even after all that time with strength so immense they hadn’t even thought possible. Jean didn’t expect any less of Eren. Only mad men talked like he did.

Good riddance.

“You could stand to be a little more self-preserving then,” said Jean. “Prove yourself worthy of the commander’s trust again.”

“Did you come down here just to argue with me?”

“No.”

“Then why are you here?” said Eren, his voice with a mere trace of his famous temper. “Why bother?”

The hot flames of Eren’s anger had cooled significantly over the years, but Jean thought it’d cooled too much. There were times one could be too hot, but times where one could be too cold.

He’d spent too much time in Marley, Eren had. That was all. How else could he have killed innocent children and women? He was just like Reiner and Annie and Bertoldt, now. Quashing humans in the great palms of their Titan hands, and only a few marks on his face and some steam from his wounds to get out of it.

The worn look in Eren’s eyes knew though. He was cold, now, cold, but with the anger boiling underneath, like those firey mountains from Armin’s books.

He should be able to deal with it. He hadn’t survived five years in the Survey Corps for nothing. But this Eren was like a different animal now, virtually unrecognizable from the Eren who screamed indiscriminately about the cowards who would hide in the safety of the interior.

No, that was wrong. Eren Jaeger was still that same person, the same desire to cross the ocean, to fight and fight until he dropped dead. But he held more cards in his hands, knew infuriatingly well how important he was to the future of Paradis. That crawled under Jean’s skin more irritably than he liked. It was time for bed, he decided.

“Whatever it was,” said Jean, “it doesn’t matter, because I’m leaving.”

He turned on his heel and started walking.

“Good night, Jean,” Eren called after him. “I hope you sleep well.”

Jean stopped and glared. It sounded mocking, but the look in Eren’s eyes was anything but.

“What the fuck,” said Jean, more in astonishment than question.

“You look like you’ve been sleeping badly,” said Eren. 

“What the fuck do you know?” said Jean, whirling back around, desperately pushing down dreams of a funeral pyre and charred bones. “What the  _ fuck  _ do you know?”

“Go visit your mom,” said Eren, as if Jean hadn’t said anything. He was still hunched over, elbows on his knees, eyes watching Jean carefully. “Sleep in your own bed for a bit. You deserve a break.”

“I don’t have time for a break,” snapped Jean. “None of us do. Okay? Things can’t be nice, no matter what. It’s war. No one at war gets to have a break.”

A few heartbeats passed, loudly echoing inside Jean’s ears. Eren’s gaze was even, sad, as if he was still writing letters from Marley.

“You’re right about that,” said Eren quietly.  “War is war. Nothing is fair, so everything is fair. No one deserves that.”

When did this suicidal idiot become so philosophical? A fleeting thought of the Founding Titan’s wisdom perhaps even successfully burying itself in Eren’s tiny brain, even if only a little bit, came and went. That couldn’t be true. As far as Jean knew, there was no way for Eren to use any of that power. Maybe it was better that way. The holders of the First Titan had all been more deranged than Eren had been at his peak.

“I’m sorry, Jean.” Eren finally moved, standing up, his shoulders relaxed. “I am.”

Jean didn’t know how to respond. Instead he turned again and headed towards the stairs.

“You know, Jean,” said Eren. “You’re important to me, too.”

Jean stopped, the echo of his heart still pounding loudly in his ears—he might not even have heard Eren correctly.

Then, slowly, he began climbing the stairs, back up above ground, to his bunk, aching for dreamless sleep to take him.


End file.
